All night the wind blew, whipping into every corner and behind every wall. I slept in the shelter of a fish market stall, the sounds of the wind playing incessantly – the evocative whistle and clanking of masts, the creak of fishing boats rubbing on their fenders, the flap of the fish market tents, and the occasional mysterious crash and bang.

The fishermen arrived at 6 am to set up their stalls and I snuck out before questions were asked. Still dark, I bought a crusty sourdough baguette and ate it with scrambled eggs in the comfort of a warm, musty foyer of an apartment block.

The sun came up over the mountains surrounding Marseille, painting the sky in dreamy pastel colours. I basked against a wall, shedding layers as the heat strengthened.

I left at 11.30, staying tight to the rocky shore, hiding from the offshore wind all I could. The rocky outcrops slowly became cliffs and I paddled in the calm area below, the water to my right alive with ripples. The sea was crystal clear yet also aquamarine. I stopped in a stunning cove for porridge and then started heading across the bay.

I passed the port of Marseille, pleased to see the container ships and cruise liners docked and stationary. The waves lined up perfectly and I had my best downwind of the trip, with a great view of the city and the mountains behind.

Arriving at a marina where I’d seen there was a canoe club, I was lucky again. At 16.30 on a Thursday, it may well have been deserted, but happily, Côme and two friends were there. They let me shower and sleep at the canoe club and we went to a pub when they’d finished training. Thanks guys! Maybe I’m silly for not planning ahead, because I could easily have missed this welcome, but when it does occur spontaneously, it is so wonderful.

Today (8th October), I think I’ll rest up, sort out my kit, and explore Marseille, France’s second largest city.